


Writing Prompt (Zombie)

by orphan_account



Category: Senki Zesshou Symphogear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22931659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Something written last year for one of the writing prompts on the Symphogear Discord server.
Kudos: 1





	Writing Prompt (Zombie)

Cagliostro sat beside Prelati's bed, tightly grasping the feverish girl's hand. It had been days since their fight with the Zababa duo, days since the Igalima wielder had, for unknown reasons, bitten Prelati in the midst of battle. Thinking back on it, that gear wielder had been acting rather odd throughout the entire battle, feral even, and her companion had seemed quite shocked by her actions.

Cagliostro and Prelati had decided it would be in their best interests to flee from the duo, and shortly after returning to their quarters Prelati had fallen strangely ill. Nothing seemed to help her. Alchemy, medicine, herbal remedies...all to no avail. She remained feverish, and in occasional fits of delirium would thrash and try to bite anything or anyone nearby. Concerned, St. Germain had instructed Cagliostro to keep enough space between herself and Prelati while she went to see if she could find any information on what was wrong with their dear companion.

Cagliostro had complied with the instructions at first, but only for a few minutes. To her, keeping away felt like she was abandoning Prelati, and that didn't sit well with her at all. So here she was, holding Prelati's hand and comforting her as best she could. She was growing worried, however, as Prelati's breathing was growing shallow and her pulse was becoming weaker by the minute.

_'Please hurry, St. Germain…'_

***

St. Germain cautiously approached what she hoped was S.O.N.G.'s headquarters. She knew she was taking a risk coming here, but it was for Prelati's sake. From what Cagliostro had told her, she had been bitten by one of the gear wielders before suddenly falling strangely ill. St. Germain was determined to find out what was going on and how to heal her, so here she was.

She soon found the entryway, but for some reason it was hanging wide open, completely unguarded. How odd. Taking a tentative step in, she noticed it was eerily quiet, save for the occasional sob from somewhere further back. Carefully walking further in, her attention was quickly drawn to a figure nearby, curled into a ball on the floor.

It was the Ichival wielder, still in her gear. But she was covered in blood and sobbing uncontrollably! St. Germain wondered what in the world was going on. Something was...very wrong, here, and it worried her.

**“WHO'S THERE?!”**

St. Germain quickly whirled around, startled by the booming voice. An imposing figure with fiery red hair stomped towards her, but quickly stopped its advance upon seeing her.

“Oh, it's just you…”

The figure- rather, S.O.N.G.'s commander- sank into a nearby chair, a weary expression on his face. St. Germain looked back and forth between him and the sobbing girl, growing more confused by the moment.

“Please pardon Chris. She sadly had to...destroy...Kirika and Shirabe.” Chris began crying even harder at the mention of their names.

“'Destroy’? You mean, kill?!”

“They were already dead when she had to deal with them.” The commander sighed. “I'll explain later. But I am curious as to what's brought you of all people here.”

St. Germain gingerly sat in a nearby chair and stared at the commander. “Information, hopefully. One of my companions has fallen strangely ill and nothing has helped her. I thought perhaps you might know something, seeing as to how it occurred after she had been bitten by the Igalima wielder.”

The commander visibly paled. “Bitten?! Oh no, Kirika infected yet another person?”

“What do you mean, 'infected’? **What the hell is going on?!”**

“I need you to listen very carefully, because you and your other companion are in grave danger…”

***

“Mrr…” Cagliostro rubbed her eyes. She hadn't meant to doze off, but the lack of sleep from worrying about Prelati had gotten to her. Yawning, she reached over to see if by any chance Prelati's fever had broken. She yanked her hand back abruptly, startled by how very cold she felt.

“Pre...Prelati?” She stared in horror as she realized the other girl wasn't moving, wasn't breathing at all. “No…” Cagliostro choked back a sob. “Prelati, please, no…Open your eyes, please…!” She clutched the unmoving girl's hand and wailed.

_'This can't be happening. It just can't! I...I need to tell St. Germain…'_

_“Cagliostro?”_

Her head snapped up. “St. Germain?”

_“Oh thank god you're okay! Listen, you need to get as far away from Prelati as you can, now!”_

“Wh...what? Get away?! I don't understand! St. Germain, you need to get back here, 'Lati's…she's...she's dead…”

_“Oh no...Cagliostro, please, just get away from there. You're in danger if you stay near her!”_

Cagliostro had stopped listening, however, distracted by what felt like slight movement beneath her hand. To her amazement, Prelati was moving again and staring up at her. But something was...off. She had a feral look in her bloodshot eyes, much like the Igalima wielder had in that battle.

“'Lati? Are you okay? What- **AAAGH!** ”

Grabbing Cagliostro's hand in a grip far stronger than she had ever managed in her life, Prelati yanked her forward and sank her teeth into her throat before ripping away a chunk and noisily eating it.

Falling onto the bed, her life bleeding out of her, Cagliostro dimly heard St. Germain desperately begging her to get away, that Prelai had been infected with something that turns it's victims into zombies...


End file.
